


Postcards From LA (And Other Cities)

by thegrayness



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Fluff, I'm warning you, Like the fluffiest thing of all time, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: Dan sends Noah postcards.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 15
Kudos: 76





	Postcards From LA (And Other Cities)

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all blame TINN for this. 😠

It starts after Italy. 

Noah arrives home to a smattering of junk mail and a roughed-up postcard from Tuscany with ‘ _the villa misses you <3’ _ in Dan’s messy scrawl on the back. The front has a photograph of one of the wineries they’d visited, filtered through a warm lens making the paper look a hundred years old. 

Of course, Dan’s been back in LA for a bit, still thousands of miles from Noah, but at least on the same continent. Still, the postcard makes him happy and nostalgic and sad all at once, so he gets into bed in the middle of the afternoon and calls Dan. 

He expects Dan to be busy with something: editing, photoshoots, interviews, business meetings, or _something_ , but he answers on the third ring. 

“Noah, hi.” His voice is warm and pleased, and Noah grins up at the ceiling of his bedroom. 

“Hey, babe. I got your postcard.”

“Oh! Good, wow, yeah that took forever, huh?”

“I don’t mind. It was a nice surprise. I just got home from the studio.” Noah plucked at a loose thread on his comforter. God, how long as he had this thing? At some point in the last six months or so, he’d stopped buying new stuff for his house, presumptuously holding on to a fantasy that soon, whatever that means, he and Dan would be living together. And obviously he doesn’t want to pick out anything without Dan. 

Noah is jolted out of his daydream by Dan’s inquisitive hum. “Record my song yet?” He says. Noah knows he’s just teasing, but there _is_ a song for him, and he hasn’t recorded it yet. 

“No,” he replies with a laugh. “I’m not done writing it,” he says, which is also true. There are a few lyrics he hasn’t settled on. 

“I can wait,” Dan says. 

*

Noah gets the next postcard a week before the Emmys. 

It actually looks like a vintage postcard with a photo of the LA skyline in sepia tones, and on the back it says ‘ _miss you, see you soon,’_ and Noah feels like his cheeks are going to get stuck from smiling so hard. 

He knows Dan is busy, so he sends a text with the days, hours, and minutes until they’re set to meet in LA. 

_So you got the postcard_

_I got the postcard. Thank you. I miss you, too._

_It’s gonna be a great week_

_Can’t wait <3 _

*

A week after the GLAAD awards, Noah gets a postcard from San Francisco with a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge. ‘ _To my hyper-capable, unassumingly sexy partner: I miss you. See you in Denver.’_

Noah is starting to feel like some kind of pen pal in love, because he clutches the postcard to his chest and falls onto his bed, thinking about Dan scrawling out this message the day after the awards, probably at the front desk of their hotel while he was waiting for Noah to come down. He gets ahold of himself and brings the postcard to the kitchen, opens up the pack of magnets he’d just ordered to put up the other two, and sticks it on the fridge. He stands back to admire the beginning of his collection and then searches for his phone in between the couch cushions to leave Dan a long, very thankful voicemail.

*

A few days after their first string of Up Close & Personal shows, Noah gets a postcard from Denver: _‘Noah, three days of you won’t be enough.’_

The next day, it’s Vegas: _‘The lights are brighter here with you.’_

Vancouver: _‘I think I’ll be holding my breath until I see you again.’_

The same thing happens after the second set of shows. A postcard from each city they went to; then a few postcards from cities in Japan that Dan visited in late November. 

*

He gets a few more from LA, depicting various historical and/or touristy landmarks all with variations of _‘I miss you’_ scribbled on the back. Noah sticks each one on his fridge, and he thinks he might have to reorganize them soon because he’s running out of space. 

His favorite one arrives the day before Dan is scheduled to fly in to Toronto for an extended visit. It's different, because it’s in an envelope, which Noah thinks defeats the purpose of a postcard. When he pulls it out, the message side is facing forward, and it reads: _‘We did this together, me and you. I’m honored to have shared this journey with you. I can’t wait to see you, and hold you, and love you.’_ Noah furrows his brow, and when he flips the postcard over he gasps, dropping the envelope and the rest of his mail to hold the cardstock with both hands. 

It’s clearly a custom piece, Dan must have ordered it, or made it or something. It’s a photo of their billboard. The one on the building. The one where people are going to take selfies, to celebrate their love for each other. 

Noah stumbles over to the couch and sits down, staring at the image. He feels on the verge of tears, so he takes a few steadying breaths before gingerly setting the postcard down on the coffee table and fumbling his phone out of his pocket. 

Dan answers on the first ring. “Hey, I was just about to text you that I got an earlier flight!”

Noah can’t even process _that_ exciting news. “I got your postcard,” he says, voice breaking on one or two words. 

“Oh. Well. Good. It didn’t get damaged, right? I thought you might like to frame it or something.”

“Daniel, it’s—god, I love you, I can’t wait to see you. I—I don’t know what else to say, I just—” He sniffles.

“Noah,” Dan interrupts him, and Noah can tell he’s smiling, and that makes Noah smile, too. “You don’t have to say anything. I—I already know.”

*

When Dan finally arrives in his car from the airport, they spend 15 minutes making out by the door, Dan’s bags spilled out onto the floor. Noah doesn’t want to stop, but he was in the middle of making Dan’s requested strawberry waffles and if he leaves the batter sitting too long it’ll be ruined and he'd never let them ruin waffles. 

Dan whines against his mouth when he dares to broach the subject of pausing the kissing, but when he mentions the waffles Dan pulls him in for a quick, hard kiss and then all but shoves him away as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

Noah laughs at Dan’s clear priorities and follows, moving to the counter to give the batter a quick stir before turning on the waffle iron. Dan’s in front of the fridge, and Noah looks over—whatever he was going to say leaves his brain as he takes in the soft look on Dan’s face. 

“Noah,” Dan says softly, reaching out to touch one of the postcards, then turning to look at Noah with shining eyes. “You kept all of them?” Noah goes to him and pulls Dan into his arms. He brings his hands up to cup Dan’s cheeks. 

“Of course I kept them all?” It’s a question because Noah is genuinely confused. Dan wrote them. Why wouldn’t he keep them?

“I mean I figured you’d keep the last one,” Dan says, looking over his shoulders to where the one with their billboard is is stuck to the center of the fridge. He gingerly touches the edges of it.

“I’m keeping them all. And if you send me more—

“—I’m sending you more—”

“—I’m keeping those, too. I’ll buy a second fridge.”

“Not sure that will be necessary,” Dan says, brushing his nose against the side of Noah’s. “But I appreciate your dedication.”

“Come on,” Noah murmurs, pulling back. “Let me make you waffles.”

*

“Oof,” Noah grunts and stumbles as Redmond collides with his shin as he walks in the door. “Hey, buddy,” he laughs, dropping his bag and quickly punching in the alarm code. He tosses the mail on the front table next to the vase full of fresh flowers Dan had picked up the day before. 

He squats in front of Red for copious ear scratches and belly rubs, then follows him to the back door to let him out into the late afternoon LA sun. Red promptly flops down in a patch of sun. 

Noah leaves him to it, and circles back to the foyer for the mail, sifting through the nonsense and pulling out a… postcard. “What?” He says to himself, staring at the front. ‘ _Greetings from LOS ANGELES,’_ it says in huge colorful block letters. He flips it over, and there in Dan’s messy handwriting it says:

~~_Miss you_ ~~ _  
__See you at home._


End file.
